


love is

by Pterodactyl



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pterodactyl/pseuds/Pterodactyl
Summary: kurt and blaine get back from a rowdy night out with the boys. birthday present fic based off of tacogrande's good sweet art which you can findhere!!





	

**Author's Note:**

> warning for mention of vomiting my dudes

Sometimes Blaine wonders if his husband is really just several baby deer in a trenchcoat.

As he unlocks the door to their apartment, Kurt slumps against the wall dramatically, legs splayed out and tugging at his neckerchief. “Blaine. _Blaine_. I’m being _strangled_. Help.”

Blaine hides a smile behind his hand. “Hold on, honey, let me just get the door open first.”

“How do I get this darn thing off,” Kurt mumbles, fumbling with the knot that he had carefully tied only a few hours earlier, “Blaine, _help_.”

Blaine opens the door and offers out a hand, laughing as Kurt braces himself against the wall and clambers to his feet. “There we go. You want some water?”

“I wanna finish my cosmo from earlier,” Kurt pushes a hand through his hair and tosses his head as if he weren’t sat on the floor a minute ago. Blaine presses his lips together hard, trying desperately not to laugh out loud as his husband wobbles through into the kitchen.

“Cosmo! There you are!” Blaine hears him sing, and braces his hand against the wall so he can take off his shoes without falling over. He’s barely tipsy, but he is _tired_ , and it’s nearly four hours past his normal bedtime.

There’s a clatter but no glass breaking, and Blaine hangs his jacket up and ambles through into the kitchen to rescue his husband and take him to bed.

“Blaine!” Kurt’s sitting on one of the breakfast bar stools, one leg crossed neatly over the other and his half-drunk cosmo held in one hand, “C’mere, honey, I wanna kiss you.”

“You come here and let me take you to bed,” Blaine says, “C’mon. It’s late.”

“Blaine,” Kurt pouts, sipping out of the long curly straw precariously balanced in the cocktail glass, “You’re so good. You’re so sweet. I wanna make you feel good, honey, c’mere.”

Blaine feels blood rush to his face and he’s rendered speechless for a moment, moving on automatic as Kurt beckons with one finger. When he’s close enough, Kurt grabs him by his undone bowtie and reels him in, cupping his jaw and leaning in close.

“Kurt,” Blaine mumbles, torn between being responsible and getting his husband to bed and letting drunk Kurt pay him compliments, “Kurt -”

“Blaine,” Kurt whispers, “Do you want to go to space?”

The question catches him completely offguard and he wheezes out a laugh. “ _What?_ ”

“I would take you to space if I could,” Kurt puts the glass down so he can hold Blaine’s face with both hands, squishing his cheeks a little, “You’re the most beauti - _hic_ \- beautiful man in the universe. Let me take you to space so they can see.”

“I love you so much,” Blaine says, smiling, “But you are drunk, and you need to sleep this off.”

Kurt sighs dramatically, slides off the stool and leans his whole body weight against Blaine. “Then space.”

“Then space, angel,” Blaine murmurs, brushing the hair off Kurt’s forehead and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. Kurt sighs and Blaine barely manages to keep his composure at his husband’s incredibly potent breath. “Okay. Brush teeth, then bed, then space.”

“I don’t need to brush my teeth,” Kurt yawns and Blaine holds his breath. “Do it for me?”

“I’ll do anything for you,” Kurt mumbles, presses a sugary-alcohol kiss to Blaine’s cheek and stumbles in the direction of the bedroom.

Blaine grabs a glass of water for both of them, stops to tip a little into their herb garden, then switches the lights off behind him and follows the alcohol-and-sweat smell through to their bedroom.

“Blaine,” he hears Kurt call, “Bla-aine…”

“Coming, Kurt,” he pushes the door open with his shoulder and sees his husband, one foot still stuck in his jeans, pulling at his neckerchief again.

“Be a sweetie and help me get undressed?” Kurt’s shed his sweater with no problems, but his midriff-baring shirt and pants are obviously giving him more trouble. Blaine places the waters on the dresser and reels Kurt in by the waistband of his briefs. “C’mere, let me get this off for you.”

“You’re amazing,” Kurt tilts his chin up so Blaine can unknot his neckerchief, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Blaine murmurs, tossing the fabric aside and tugging off Kurt’s shirt as well, “C’mon. Brush your teeth.”

“Two seconds,” Kurt falls backwards onto the bed, kicking his leg until his jeans fly off along with one sock, “Just...two seconds.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Drink some water, I’ll be right back.”

He brushes his teeth, washes his face and uses the bathroom. There’s a longing glance at the shower, but he’s far too tired and the thought of bed is more tempting than the thought of being clean. His pants barely make it into the laundry basket, and when he drags his feet back into the bedroom Kurt is sprawled out across the covers in his underwear, snoring.

“Oh, geez,” Blaine looks at the untouched glass of water and back at his husband, his tired brain working hard to weigh up the consequences of waking his drunk husband up versus waking up to his hungover husband.

“Oh, _geez_ ,” he rubs his hands over his face, turns out the light and stumbles across to the bed. Kurt doesn’t stir at all, even when Blaine hits the mattress hard enough to bounce them both up and down. His husband just snorts, drools a little on the pillow and sighs heavily. Even a foot away, Blaine has to screw up his face at Kurt’s breath.

He crawls under the blankets, plants his feet and tugs until they slide out from under Kurt and he can kick them over his husband too. He’s cold, so he wriggles back across the bed until he can tuck himself under Kurt’s arm, against his side. With his face pressed into the comforter, he can exploit Kurt’s warmth without being knocked out by his breath.

“Night, Kurt,” he mumbles, “Love you.”

Kurt doesn’t reply, but his arm tightens around Blaine’s shoulders on automatic.

Blaine sleeps like the dead, only stirring when someone kicks him in the small of the back. He groans, screwing up his face at the light streaming through the blinds and rolling over.

“Kurt?” he squints at the open bathroom door, “You okay?”

The only noise that comes from the bathroom informs him that no, Kurt is not okay.

Grimacing, Blaine rolls out of bed and steps heel-heavy towards the bathroom, eyes half-closed against the oppressive morning sun, and leans heavily on the doorframe. “Honey? You doing okay?”

Kurt, sitting next to the toilet, gives him a weak thumbs up.

“I feel like shit,” he rasps, “How much did I drink?”

“I lost count,” Blaine picks up the mouthwash, pours some into the lid and hands it to Kurt, “You fell asleep before brushing your teeth.”

“My mouth feels like a trash can,” Kurt rinses his mouth out, grabs the rim of the sink with one hand and on shaky legs cranes over it to spit, “My whole body feels like a trash can.”

“Oh, honey,” Blaine offers out a hand sympathetically, “I tried to get you to drink some water, but you passed right out as soon as we got home.”

Kurt groans, climbing to his feet like a very tall and delicate house of cards. “I remember drinking that last cosmo. Why did I do that?”

“Drunk Kurt answers to his own gods,” Blaine cups his stubbly jaw, “How are you feeling now?”

“Now my stomach is empty?” Kurt makes a face, “Slightly less like a dumpster masquerading as a human being.”

“Good,” Blaine leans up on his toes and presses a kiss to Kurt’s forehead, “C’mon. Let’s get some aspirin into you.”

Once Kurt’s downed an entire glass of water and taken two aspirin, he says “Did I ask you to go to space with me last night?”

Blaine smiles as he slices fruit for breakfast. “You wanted to take me to space so everyone could see that I’m the most beautiful man in the universe.”

Kurt groans. “I really said that?”

“Don’t be sad, it was cute,” Blaine offers him an apple slice, “You lavished compliments on me. I kind of like drunk Kurt.”

“I lavish compliments on you when I’m sober!” Kurt says, wounded. Blaine giggles. “I know you do, sweetie, but you kind of lose your filter when you’re drunk.”

“And I ask you to go to space with me.”

“I’d go anywhere with you,” Blaine leans down and kisses Kurt’s cheek, “But I’m not going to kiss you until you brush your teeth properly, barf breath.”

Kurt pouts but obliges, disappears into the bedroom. He returns with minty fresh breath, dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants and Blaine’s too-small NYU hoodie.

“I’m a new man,” he says, stretching. Blaine pokes the stretch of stomach that peeks out from under the hem of the hoodie and grins around his orange wedge when Kurt wrinkles his nose at him.

“Where’s my phone?” he pats his pockets as if it’ll magically appear, “Have you -”

“It’s in my jacket from last night,” Blaine halves the grapes the way Kurt likes them, “But it might be dead, I didn’t remember to plug it in.”

“What on earth would I do without you?” Kurt presses a tingly kiss to Blaine’s cheek.

“You’d be offering to take random men to Mars, probably.”

“Oh, hush.”

Blaine cackles as Kurt wanders off in search of his phone. Once the bowls of fruit are arranged on the countertop, he makes up a bowl of greek yogurt for both of them - a drizzle of honey for Kurt, plain for him - with two cups of tea, not coffee, and waits for his husband to come back into the kitchen.

“I really was drunk last night, huh?” Kurt mutters as he walks back in, phone in hand, “Santana has photos on snapchat.”

“You did have a few more than you usually do,” Blaine plops a spoon in Kurt’s yogurt, “But we both had fun.”

“And you got me home safe,” Kurt grabs him by his hips, unknowingly mirroring how Blaine had pulled him in the night before, “You’re the best husband in the world.”

“Mm,” Blaine drapes his arms over Kurt’s shoulders, “I think that’s you.”

“I - _oh, geez_ , you said my barf breath was bad? You have morning breath, honey,” Kurt ducks his face to the side, “Teeth, brushed, please, before you get any kisses from me.”

“Fine, fine,” Blaine cups his hand over his mouth as he heads for the bathroom and grimaces. Clearly he didn’t do as good a job as he thought on his teeth the night before.

“Actually, hold on a second?”

Blaine pauses in the doorway, leaning up against the frame as Kurt crosses the kitchen towards him.

“Thank you for taking care of me last night,” he says softly, taking Blaine’s hand and running his thumb over his ring, “I love you.”

“Any time, angel,” Blaine smiles, “Anything for you.”

Kurt cradles his jaw with his spare hand, rubs their noses together and then kisses him, morning breath and all.


End file.
